Flame Drawn
by Madrigal-in-training
Summary: She was an Italian Muggle, with a criminal background, six overprotective brothers, and a teenage hitman tutor, who nearly burned him to death. He was a powerful wizard, acclaimed British Auror and national hero. Therefore, a romance was a bad idea in all of the best ways. fem!Tsuna, Harry x Tsuna
1. Chapter 1

Flame Drawn

 _She was an Italian Muggle, with a criminal background, six overprotective brothers, and a teenage hitman tutor, who nearly burned him to death. He was a powerful wizard, acclaimed British Auror and national hero. Therefore, a romance was a bad idea in all of the best ways. fem!Tsuna, Harry x Tsuna_

xxxxx

' _In retrospect, throwing Mulligan through the Boss's window was not one of my better ideas,_ ' Harry mused, leaning against the iron-latticed chair, ' _Not that the prick didn't deserve it._ '

Brian Mulligan was one of those entry-level Aurors that sorely tested Harry's patience. Not quite as much as his fangirls or- *shudder*- fanboys did, but in that he believed challenging the Man-Who-Won proved his worth somehow. Normally, Harry approved of a reasonable disregard of authority, because he would be a complete hypocrite otherwise, but there was a time and place for such things. And it was not breaking character in a four-month sting operation in Knockturn Alley just to get into a teammate's knickers. Thus, the flying tosser incident.

Chambers had agreed with him, which was the main reason why Harry hadn't received a black mark on his file. Still, regardless of the Boss's sympathy, an Auror Captain was expected to show more self-restraint than Harry had displayed, and some punishment was in order. In the end, the higher ups had agreed to transfer him to Italy for the next six months, to work on a Muggle-related case in Sicily. He would suffer the indignity of working with Muggles, but the impact to his career would be minimal and he may even make some international contacts.

"Reflect on your poor judgement under the sunshine and by the Mediterranean sea," Chambers had deadpanned, handing him the Portkey, "Bring me back some almond biscotti when you return."

Harry _was_ grateful for his metaphorical slap on the wrist. Italy was a beautiful country, the almond biscotti was as delicious as promised, and a few months away from Britain might soothe Mrs. Weasley over his broken relationship. While he and Ginny had parted under amicable terms- right after the petite redhead had wrangled a promise to make her the godmother of his firstborn- no one else seemed pleased by it. The Daily Prophet had run no less than seven cover articles ranging from Harry's philandering ways, to Ginny's philandering ways, to an in-depth expose on his steamy love affair with Draco Malfoy.

"You cheated on me with _Draco Malfoy_ , Harry?" Ginny had exclaimed, barely keeping a straight face on, "I can't- I can't- oh, Merlin! This is so hilarious!"

Harry was grateful for all of those reasons, but he was also utterly, undeniably, insufferably _bored_ with the mission. He had been placed on a team with three others to break-up a mafia drug smuggling ring, but it had been seven weeks already, and they didn't have a single lead. Not that his time hadn't been spent wisely. The British Auror had learned to swear fluently in Italian, sampled half of the desserts in the city, and observed the easy relationship between the Italian Ministry of Magic and its Muggle counterpart, due in part to the occasional Muggle case their Aurors picked up.

' _I should talk to Kingsley about trying that policy ourselves,_ ' Harry thought, polishing off his coffee-flavoured panna cotta. He took out a wallet of brightly coloured Muggle paper, paid for his meal, and added a generous tip, before heading towards his partner.

"Have you heard anything?" Mariano Accardi, a Halfblood wizard with wavy chestnut hair, asked. He was a friendly man, but prone to incessant flirtation with his direct supervisor, Natale Cipriani. Having met the blunt, no-nonsense blonde before, Harry was all the more impressed by Mariano's nerve.

"They still refuse to talk," Harry replied, sighing. The civilians around Sicily's mafia-controlled neighborhoods were cordial and welcoming, until law enforcement ventured to ask any questions. Then, it was like trying to pull Hermione from the library during the month before OWLs. An impractical endeavor with great potential for bodily injury.

Mariano shrugged, nonplussed. "Yes, the Muggles here stick very closely to Omerta. I wouldn't be surprised if the mafia had their own version of your Azkaban."

"I doubt the Muggles have access to anything like the Dementors," Harry pointed out.

Mariano frowned, and his next reply was slower. "There are… strange things that occur here, but fall outside of Ministry jurisdiction. I'm pretty sure I've seen a Muggle cast a purple Incendio once, but they told me to keep it out of the official report. I don't have the clearance to be given any concrete information, but the lovely Ms. Cipriani told me that the underworld effectively polices itself."

"Then why are we here?" Harry asked, intrigued by his partner's admission.

"For show, I guess," and then a rakish grin crossed his face, "And so Natale has some way to punish me without messing up my pretty face. Alas, our positions in life mean that she can never admit to our glorious liaison of the heart."

"A liaison that only exists in your head," Harry snickered, "So, this is six months of lying around, twiddling our thumbs?"

"Not entirely," the brunette disagreed, "You became bilingual on this trip, didn't you?"

"I'm sure cursing in Italian will broaden my horizons immensely," Harry grinned.

"I can teach you another use," Mariano offered, winking, "French may get all of the attention, but Italian is the _true_ language of love."

"Thanks, but I wouldn't have anyone to practice it on," Harry replied, laughing, "And I'm not a homewrecker. I wouldn't dream of breaking your one-sided love affair with Captain Cipriani."

The other man snorted. "As if you could hold a candle to the gorgeous blue eyes of my Natale. No, I thought it might be useful with _Signoire Malfoy_."

Harry's green eyes widened with horror. "How-?"

"International edition of the Prophet," Mariano didn't hold back his laughter, "I didn't want to pry, but I'm guessing from your face that it never actually occurred?"

'No, no, Merlin-bedamned, NO!" Harry exclaimed, pressing his face into his hands, "Colin takes _one_ picture of us shaking hands after the war, and- no!"

"Good," Mariano approved, chuckling, "Malfoy is not an ugly man, but you should not love someone who fears to smile. Or with such pale skin. Standing next to you would make him look washed up in the society photos."

The British-born wizard rolled his eyes. "Not the reason I would have used, but yes, Malfoy and I would make a terrible couple."

"Then you're single?" Mariano pressed. At Harry's wary nod, his grin widened. "I bet if we try to matchmake you at the office, Natale would agree to a double date…"

"No," Harry shut down that plan immediately, "No way, am I getting involved between your death wish and Cipriani's wand."

The brunette sulked. "Aren't the Gryffindors supposed to be brave?"

"The Hat considered me for Slytherin first," the green-eyed man informed him. They would have continued their banter, had not a loud whoosh caught Harry's ear.

"What the-" Harry looked up, bracing his feet as an explosion tore through the premises ahead of them. Several meters ahead, brick and mortar rained down in a hail of fire, and screams began to fill the air. The subsequent tremors of the ground almost caused the two wizards to fall over, as black smoke marred the previously forget-me-not blue sky.

"Come on!" Mariano was the first to react, running against the press of people trying to escape.

Harry flicked his wrist, and cast a quick variant of the notice-me-not charm, designed to make crowds move around him, and followed. A localised _Ebublio_ jinx around his mouth and nose encased it in a bubble of fresh oxygen, but the rancid smoke still stung his unprotected eyes.

The dark-haired Auror scanned his surroundings. Most of the entrance wall had crumbled, and the store's glass windows lay shattered on the ground. Several people had managed to escape the premises, but there were still a few stragglers…

"Harry!" Mariano's shout made his head swivel in the direction of the brunette. His partner was half-carrying, half-dragging an elderly man with a clear head wound, though the ease of movement suggested that a featherlight charm had been cast first. One hand lifted to form a few international law enforcement hand signs, and Harry nodded.

Taking in a deep, oxygen-rich breath, Harry cast a counter to the Flagrante curse- while mentally chiding himself for not learning a proper fire-repelling spell- and ran into the smoke. There was no one inside, so Harry's body twisted, folded, and collapsed into a blue-feathered bird with a white underbelly. Furiously beating his wings, the Siberian blue robin flew up the cracked staircase and into the loft above.

"H-help!" the high-pitched, panicked voice of a child began coughing, "Help me, please! S-someone…"

Harry immediately released his Animagus form, and landed on the smoking rug. He was in a partitioned living room/kitchenette, and the entire west wall was engulfed in flames. The cry had come from the opposite side of the room though. One _Homenum Revelio_ later, and Harry headed towards the couch with two _Aguamenti_ -soaked conjured towels in his hand.

"Excuse me, can you please call out," Harry kept his face down, to limit exposure to the smoke.

"H-here!" the voice said loudly, before subsiding into a cough, "I'm here!"

"The hell?!" another voice shouted, and the wizard heard the snap of one of the staggering stairs breaking. A man with blonde hair so light that it could pass for silver burst into the room, and paused, wide-eyed, when he saw Harry there. Never one to pass on help, Harry offered him a towel and pointed to the side wall.

The silver-haired man had excellent reaction speed, because he just nodded and took point to run into the flames crawling over the rug. Harry neatly stepped behind him, and despite the danger that he was currently in, took note of the way the flames seemed to bend _away_ from his fellow rescuer. The final two stragglers were a small girl, no more than eight probably, hovering over an unconscious older woman with purple bruising on her temple.

"Take her," the silverette mouthed, gesturing to the young child. Harry shook his head, and, with a gentle push, passed the terrified girl to the other man's arms.

The look he had received in response could make milk curdle, but an ominous groan from behind them caused the silverette to move. He scooped up the child easily, ran back towards the door, and rushed out. Once Harry was sure the man couldn't see, he cast a few more spells on the unconscious woman, and proceeded to follow his companion's actions.

Half an hour later, and Harry was left to wave away the well-intentioned but pushy ambulance officers, so he could wash the soot and grime off his face. Mariano finally arrived to drag him away- promising the officer to take him to the nearest hospital if he so much as coughed once- and the British Auror could regain his equilibrium.

"That fire wasn't an accident," Mariano hissed, passing him a wet towelette. Harry gratefully wiped his face. "That explosion was too strong for cooking oil."

Harry grimaced. "Was that store on our suspect list?"

"No, and there's nothing connecting it to the mafia either," the Italian Auror groused. "I heard that another man was involved in the rescue upstairs. Do you know anything about him?"

"We didn't have the time to exchange life stories," Harry responded dryly, looking behind him, "But I think we make some new friends now."

The silver-haired man was standing across the street, seemingly arguing with a tall, dark-haired man of Japanese descent. When Harry and Mariano got within a few meters of them, the silverette looked up and pinned them with keen olive green eyes. The dark-haired man turned around too, and while his face bore a welcoming smile, his alert brown eyes lacked that warmth.

' _Dangerous,'_ was Harry's immediate thought, and since he had always been an instinctive man, a similarly fake smile crossed his face.

"Hello," Harry greeted, standing a little more than an arm's length away. "I'm Harry. I wanted to see if you were cleared for the smoke?"

"Tch, as if I'd be brought down by some dirty air," a disdainful sneer crossed the silver-haired man's face. "Do you know what happened to the girl and her mother?"

Harry's smile became a bit more genuine. "They should make a full recovery. They didn't inhale much of the smoke, and the woman's bruising wasn't as bad as it looked." At least, not after he had cast a minor healing spell.

"Good," the man regarded him solemnly, "...You carried the woman out pretty easily."

"I'm stronger than I look," Harry replied, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, "Mrs. Benenati- that was the woman's name- wanted to thank you, but she couldn't find you before the ambulance officials bundled her up and carried her away."

The silverette nodded. "She owns the bakery here. I've bought some loaves of bread from her before."

"It's a shame that her shop was destroyed," Harry commented, "Rebuilding after that fire will be expensive, and she may have to take out some high-interest loans."

"She may get some financial assistance from the community," the silverette said cryptically, "Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Hayato, and this idiot is Takeshi."

"This is Mariano," and here, the brunette gave a friendly wave, "And I've introduced myself as Harry. It's nice to meet you both."

"Harry, are you from Britain?" Takeshi asked, an interest look on his face. When the dark-haired man nodded, he grinned. "Cool! We have some friends from there, but I've never gotten to visit. How are you liking Italy?"

"It's much sunnier than England," Harry answered, "The food is delicious too. I may have to be rolled back home."

The other man gave an appreciative chuckle. "I felt the exact same way when I first came here. Japan's fare is much more simple."

"We have to go now, Takeshi," Hayato interjected, offering both Harry and Marianno a nod. His friend had barely managed a goodbye, before the silverette grabbed him and started walking away.

Harry stayed silent, as he observed the two men. The unhurried pace, multiple pockets, three hands breadth separation to allow for maximum maneuverability… When they were out of sight, Harry gave his contemplative a side glance.

"Mafia?" Harry questioned.

Mariano's grin was triumphant. "We found our lead."

xxxxx

Renato Sinclair, the world's greatest hitman in the form of a gangly fourteen year old, brought lime green binoculars to his eyes as he observed the two wizards. Sitting beside him were two files, one far thicker than the other, about the two men that he was watching. Naturally, Reborn kept track of an Persons of Unusual Ability that entered Vongola or Allied domains. That classification covered all variant-Flame beings, such as Veela, Vampires, Werewolves, Sirens, and, most commonly, Wizards.

While not all beings would have a personal file, all Italian magical law enforcement had basic information supplied by their Ministry in exchange for Vindice's agreement to, among other concessions, hand over law-breaking wizards to their own justice system. Mariano Accardi's file had such minimal data, but a far thicker file was compiled for Harry Potter, Britain's Man-Who-Won. He had supposedly survived the _Avada Kedavra_ curse twice, though only the second occasion could be corroborated by witness statements, and there were multiple Flame theories on how that happened.

Reborn personally subscribed to the one of strong dual Storm/Sun flames, as the Killing Curse performed its' deed by causing multiple organ failure simultaneously. With that theory, the Storm flames could disintegrate the curse while the Sun flames kept his bodily functions active.

His normal reaction to the inquisitive wizards would have been to contact the magical Ministry and have the two agents re-assigned, but Reborn held off on that. Disregarding his own curiosity about Potter's flames, he had shown some good instincts during the explosion, and would make a useful addition to the Famiglia.

The Vongola could benefit from a fully-trained wizard agent, especially since conflicts between Omerta and the Statute of Secrecy, meant that any mafia-born with magical talents received, at best, slipshod tutoring within their famiglias. Potter could be the bridge to a better relationship with the magical Ministry, and may even entice other wizards to join them. His personality also displayed hero-type traits, which was important due to the direction that Tsuna was determined to take them in.

Dealing with his fame could be annoying, but Reborn could see the potential upsides of exploiting that as well. And, as far as the former Arcobaleno could tell, the Man-Who-Won was even single.

' _The Bovino heir was such a disappointment,'_ Reborn lamented inwardly. Not that he should have been surprised, since the idiot was related to that stupid cow, Lambo, but still. ' _And it's not like any of her Guardians are stepping up to ensure the future of the Vongola. I should shoot them all for making their poor, old tutor go through all this worry.'_

Making a mental note to kick his student's head the next time he saw her, Reborn focused back on the men that were walking towards their hotel room. In the manner of wizards everywhere, they hadn't bothered to check for Muggle listening devices, which was a bad habit that he would have to beat out of Potter.

Having come to his decision, Reborn channeled a thin stream of bubbly sunshine-yellow fire into his binoculars, and Leon transformed into an equally bright lime green cellphone. He pressed the first button.

"Hello Minion," Reborn greeted. Tsuna continually assigned him a personal assistant, but they all tended to quit after a week or two. Reborn had responded by not bothering to learn their names. Not that he had taken the effort with the first few either…

"I have need of you. Purchase me some sexy women's lingerie, in size seven."

xxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

They were both eager to pursue the lead, so when Harry woke up the next morning, he wasn't surprised to find Mariano already perched on the kitchen counter while eating breakfast. He _was_ surprised to find a deep scowl on the Italian man's face.

"Don't tell me," Harry made a show of consideration, "Natale started dating a Veela and you learned that you didn't have the right equipment for her?"

He easily dodged the half-eaten bagel tossed at him, as a crooked smile crossed the brunette's face. "Perish the thought! No, Ranieri and Talbot were pulled out of the Op. Higher ups claimed that the French Ambassador absolutely _must_ have a protection detail for the first time in over a decade."

Harry's eyebrows rose and he tapped his left ear.

"Privacy bubble around six feet radius with myself as the epicenter." The Italian Auror looked disgruntled, "You don't think…?"

"Probably." And Harry was equally annoyed, because overlooking Muggle spying equipment was such an arrogant, _novice_ move to make. "Why keep us?"

"Controlled method of contact and/or gesture of goodwill, maybe?" Mariano's smile widened and he added brightly, "Maybe they're fans of the Man-Who-Won and want to recruit you to join their criminal organization?"

Harry's stomach was empty and his bagel was delicious, so the British Auror gave a glare that he hoped would convey the depth of his derision at that comment. "Are we staying on the case then?"

Mariano shrugged. "The drug dealers still need to be caught, even if some mafia family is trying to work a political scheme around us. Let's cover what we have now."

"Drugs are smuggled in by land from the north, held in various secret locations around Siracusa and carried out by boats on the Ionian Sea. Once they reach Greece, they're out of our purview and can be funneled directly into Eastern Europe," Harry recounted, "The operation is under the control of at least one main mafia organization, with either two auxiliary groups or semi-independent departments. Exact numbers are unknown but estimates range from seventy to two hundred and fifty people."

"While multiple types of drugs are moved, the most common are cocoa leaves and xanax of an estimated 1,500 tonnes annually," Mariano continued, "Suppliers are small, independent cultivators, resulting in differentiation of quality and consistency across packages. Buyers are located primarily in Eastern Europe, which is out of our zone. Depending on the record-keeping, we may be able to hit these guys with international charges on top of the ones they'll already have for drug smuggling."

"If we want to break this ring apart," the Italian concluded, "Then we have to destroy the middlemen here."

"Easier said than done," Harry grumbled, "We have faulty, maybe-compromised intel, minimal manpower and a mafia family that's either playing games with us or in charge of the drug operation, and quite possibly both."

"Actually, this operation is relatively small compared to most international drug-trafficking rings," Mariano corrected, "It's probably controlled by a small mafia family, in the fringe side of their society. It's unlikely that the Ministry would bother to keep in contact with such a small fry family."

"Then you think that the Ministry is in contact with at least one mafia family?" Harry questioned.

"Like I said, Ranieri and Talbot are pulling protection detail for the Ambassador," Mariano pointed out, "As though _that_ isn't suspicious at all. No, there are multiple mafia families at work here, and we're supposed to bring the small one down, while trying not to step on the toes of the big one."

"Brokering a peace with the damned," Harry mused, "Joy."

"Eh, then it's for the best that Europe's best Aurors are on the case then, isn't it?" Mariano joked, raising his toasted bread in cheer, "To Accardi, Potter, and the diplomatic skills that neither of us have!"

A grin tugged at Harry's lips. "May we spontaneously develop tact and discretion."

x

They didn't necessarily need to, as their minimal talents in those areas were sufficient for the next step of the plan. One advantage of magic was that a wide net could be cast to gather information with minimal human support, at least if one knew the proper spells. While Harry leaned back and transfigured all of their remaining coffee beans into grey-peppered sparrows, Mariano charmed them with a bevy of spells, including notice-me-not, echoed sounds, record links and more. The links were charmed to a series of spell-checking, self-inking quills laid out on the kitchen table. They'd bought the packet just a few days ago, so there wouldn't be another Roonil Wazlib incident.

"Off you go, my pretties," Mariano cackled, making the dark-haired, British wizard roll his eyes as he threw the glass doors of the balcony open. "Fetch me my whispers! Catch me my prey!"

The sparrows burst into a cacophony of excited chittering as they all flew out of the window in a burst of white-brown feathers and hurried movement. Mariano watched them all leave with a sort of distant fatherly pride before he levitated the chaise over to the kitchen, transfigured it into a beach chair and lied down. "I'll man the papers till noon then?"

"Sounds like a plan," Harry agreed. "I'll go stake out the coffee shop."

It wasn't the most diligent of work he could've been getting up to but anything else likely wouldn't be paying dividends until they had decent intelligence to rely on. After ensuring that their mutual alarms were connected- and once again feeling amused that a witch's baby monitoring spell had become a staple in international law enforcement- Harry Potter headed out to the hallway and down the stairs. The Italian Ministry had set them up in a relatively good hotel for the area, neither too costly nor the sort where shady business deals were done. Harry had thought it a wasteful expense at first but after studying the case, admitted that its sophistication likely demanded it.

' _The colors do look like those from Gryffindor though.'_ The yellow was more of a soft cream and the red wasn't as vivid but the overall scheme looked pleasant to the eyes and was lit brightly by many small chandeliers. The marble floors of the entrance made a soft scuffing sound against brown penny loafers as he walked by, hurrying Harry just that tad bit more past a friendly doorman and into the warm sunshine outside. ' _Britain may be home but I have to give Italy its due._ '

When Harry stepped into the local cafe closest to the hotel, he found that he wasn't the only one to have desired pastries and coffee today. The people here looked rather more well-dressed than its average clientele, to the point where even Harry, in a white button-down dress shirt and tan slacks, felt underdressed. While none were looking over at him specifically or had even looked up from their personal conversations when the bell rung to signal entry, the hairs rose on the back of his neck. His magic tingled minutely under his skin. Tempted as he was to either recede from the premises or call for back-up, Harry nonetheless pasted a friendly smile on his face as he walked up to the cashier.

" _Good morning,_ " he offered, in broken Italian. It was a damn deal better than his initial grasp of the language but the pretty cashier still giggled a bit before asking what he'd like. " _May I have an espresso macchiato and a panino?_ "

" _To go or to stay?"_ Harry hesitated, tapped his wrist against his hip twice, where the invisible alarm stood as a signal for potential conflict, and then answered. He was nothing if not a Gryffindor. " _Stay, please."_

His post-breakfast snack received, the dark-haired wizard turned to survey the room. If he'd had any doubts about this being pre-arranged, they were dispelled when he saw that every seat in the room was taken. Every single one, from the stools on the bar to the delicate, iron-wrought tables outside to the booths here. Well, _almost_ every seat. There was one conveniently left open for him.

Harry headed over to the booth, mentally sending appreciative points to whomever arranged this little rendezvous. The brunette across the only empty chair had her bowed head bathed in a halo of light from the wide bay windows. As cliche as it was, it did seem to add an angelic glow to her appearance and when Harry pointedly cleared his throat, the owlishly blinking amber eyes looking up at him almost looked like blazing orange stars. A moment later, the illusion was dispelled as the amber returned and a puzzled expression crossed the young woman's face.

" _Yes?"_ She cocked her head to the side in an inquisitive manner. Harry was impressed. Truly masterful acting to establish such an innocence right off the bat. " _Is there anything you need, Sir?"_

" _May I sit here? All of the other chairs are taken."_ By your people, he did not add. The sentiment may have struck her anyway, as the woman looked around and flushed a deep red. She nodded gracefully and he sat down, quietly appreciating the view. Sure, a criminal organization had set this up- likely to warn him from pursuing the case- but at least an attractive mafioso was sent. Though with her milky pale skin, waifish figure and downright adorable snub nose, she didn't strike him as intimidating.

" _I'm sorry for that. My friends can be a little overprotective."_ A fond smile crossed the woman's face. Harry took a moment to parse the meaning- Mariano spoke slowly in Italian and English the remainder of the time, so he didn't have the fluency that this woman's quick grasp of the language necessitated- before nodding.

" _May we speak English?"_ Harry inquired. He'd rather not establish himself on a lower footing at the onset but it'd be worse to lose valuable subtext because of his limited grasp. The woman looked briefly startled but nodded easily. The plate in front of her was covered with many scoops of colorful gelato despite the early hour of the day. She caught his gaze towards it and half-shrugged.

"My bribe for being here," was the answer in barely-accented English. "I'm Tsuna."

"Harry." His name was common enough to get away with that though he couldn't hide his surprise at her foreign one. The mafia was normally quite insular.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry." His bullshit detector, finely honed from years of Weasley related pranks, screamed otherwise. "How are you liking Italy, so far?"

"It's fine," he answered shortly. Were they really going to do the same song and dance that he'd engaged in with the men from the fire yesterday? "Great weather, great food, great people. It was a shame that there was a fire on this street yesterday."

"Oh, absolutely!" To his even greater surprise, the brunette appeared sincere about that. "Madam Benenati makes the best rolls this side of the West. I'm glad she managed to survive the fire without too many injuries."

The dark-haired wizard offered a small hum of assent, not contributing anything more. He'd prefer to get this business out of the way quickly, so he could leave and enjoy his meal in peace. As it was, keeping one eye on the mafioso girl, the other on those men behind her, extending his magical senses over to get a general impression of his periphery and keeping his ears alert to any conversation, made it impossible to lightheartedly snack on his panino.

"So…" Tsuna drew off awkwardly. "Do you like children?"

Not shortly before the words were out did she flush a verdant crimson, while Harry heroically didn't die byway of toasted, buttered bread. What the hell kind of warning was that supposed to be?

' _Dear Merlin, please don't have her threaten to cut off my balls next.'_

It'd be an effective threat but that was cruel and unusual even by underground criminal standards.

Tsuna thankfully didn't follow that route but only because her following words were even more distressing. "I apologize for alarming you but you did know of my requirements before accepting, yes?"

' _Requirements? Children?'_ Harry was starting to get the bad feeling that this wasn't a mafia warning. "Not to sound strange or anything but what exactly are we doing here?"

Amber eyes gazed at him steadily. "This is the initial meeting," was the slow answer. "To gauge compatibility. Before a marriage alliance."

"Right…" A sweat broke out on Harry's forehead. His eyes flicked over the well-dressed men sitting around them, suddenly aware that many, while not overtly muscular, looked fit enough. Tall, slim, runner's builds… they could be duelists. He hadn't walked into a mafia meeting at all. This was quite possibly a trap set up by a fangirl or, more likely considering the puzzled expression on the girl's face, a Pureblood father wanting to get his hands on the Man-Who-Won.

Harry abruptly stood up, coffee almost spilling from his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm gay. My boyfriend- Draco Malfoy, nice guy, he's in Britain now- really wouldn't approve of any of this. Please excuse me."

And thus, did Harry Potter turn and beat a hasty retreat.

x

 _Not a return to this story but I had the chapter half-written already, so why not post it?_


End file.
